Singhania's

Nandini:

When people say life sucks, I never believed them.

But boy,they were right.

Let me tell you how it all began.

My name is Nandini Roy. Born in Hyderabad. Living in the U.S. My life was on autopilot—predictable, peaceful, ordinary. Until my family decided it was time I got married.

So here I am, in Delhi. Just landed, a few days before my wedding. Sounds like a typical Indian love story, right? Only this one comes with a twist straight out of a nightmare.

I was walking down a crowded Delhi street with my soon-to-be husband, Karthik Reddy. He’s the kind of guy you bring home to your parents—reliable, kind, software engineer, already owns a car, and has never missed a rent payment. He’s everything you’d expect from a well-settled middle-class man.

But... we had no spark. You know what I mean? No butterflies. No stolen glances. No fire. I told my family that. They told me, “Magic can happen anytime.” And like a good daughter, I nodded and smiled.

We were out finishing our last-minute wedding shopping, laughing about the absurd number of bangles my mom insisted I wear, when it happened.

A black SUV screeched to a halt just inches from us. Tires screamed. People shouted. For a second, I thought it was a traffic accident.

Then everything turnedblack.

Hands. Cold hands. Rough hands. Grabbing. Tearing me away from Karthik. He screamed my name, but someone punched him, and he went down hard. I fought—God, I fought—but they were stronger. I was shoved into the vehicle. A cloth pressed to my face.

Darkness. Silence. Nothingness.

I don’t know how long I was out.

When I woke, my head felt like it was splitting open. The air was damp, musty, and cold. A bare bulb flickered above me. I was on a concrete floor in what looked like a basement. No windows. No phone. No bag. Just fear, creeping in like fog under the door.

Then I heard it—shouting. Male voices, deep and violent, coming from the room next door.

I dragged myself up and limped toward the wall. Through a crack in the door, I saw them—at least thirty men, yelling, throwing things, pushing each other. It looked like chaos... like a mutiny.

Heart hammering in my chest, I turned the knob, slowly, silently. I had to run. I didn’t know where, but I had to try.

I slipped out. One step. Two.

Then—

Wham!

A hand gripped my hair. I was slammed against the wall, the air knocked from my lungs.

“Where do you think you’re going, little bird?” a voice growled into my ear.

His breath was hot and foul. His fingers wrapped around my throat.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream.

But suddenly—

He was gone.

Ripped away from me by someone I hadn’t even seen coming.

I gasped, collapsed—straight into another man’s arms.

“You’re okay,” he said, his voice calm but urgent. “You’re safe now.”

Safe? Safe fromwhat?

The door burst open.

Flashbulbs. Reporters. Cameras. Yelling.

It was like stepping into a madhouse.

“What the hell is going on?” I whispered.

My legs gave way.

I think I’m going to be sick.